


Falling Apart Over Him

by AnxiousCoffee (TheHallowedAngel)



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Brief but descriptive, Canon Rewrite, Comfort/Angst, Episode Rewrite: s02e14 Blame It On The Alcohol, Episode: s02e14 Blame It On the Alcohol, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Internal Monologue, Kurt Hummel Is A Mess, Other, Rewrite, Vomiting, brief mentions of vomiting, emotional angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 20:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19753306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHallowedAngel/pseuds/AnxiousCoffee
Summary: A rewrite to s02e14: Blame It On The Alcohol, in which Kurt isn't great and he ends up having a melt down. Love is dumb but love is powerful, I don't think he truly had the chance to feel.AKA: Kurt is a mess but his dad and step-mum have his back





	Falling Apart Over Him

There wasn’t a word to describe how Kurt was feeling right now.

Or maybe there was and he just couldn’t find the rationality to name the emotion that was boiling his blood and turning his heart into glass, each beat threatening to break it into pieces. Kurt had fallen for Blaine the second he was taken by the hand and led to the glee room at Dalton. But that had all been a very, very long time ago now, and instead of holding his hand and dragging him anywhere, Blaine was up on that stupid stage and jumping about with Rachel Berry, the one person Kurt had never worried would steal his crush.

When Kurt was the lowest he had been, considering moving states- heck, moving country -and throwing himself back into the closet, Blaine had been so proud and so _himself_ , and it had given him the strength to keep going. So that _he_ could be himself.

So yeah, maybe he shouldn’t be as hurt as he is, given that he and Blaine were no more together than Quinn and Mike were, but this was the person who had shown him how rewarding it can be to be yourself even when people around you weren’t very accepting.

All the signs were pointing to gay not being who Blaine was and Kurt couldn’t stand the idea of having fallen for yet another straight boy, except this time it was worse. It was so much worse. Because this straight boy had been gay for all the moments it had mattered, all the moments that Kurt went to bed and dreamt about over and over, all the moments that Kurt sat in the kitchen of his own home and thought about while stirring his coffee.

All the moments that now made his stomach turn just to think about.

He needed to get out, he needed to get out of this house and away from Rachel and Blaine and whatever horrible, horrible song they were going to sing next and then kiss after, away from the knowledge that he really had made it all up in his head. This perfect little world he had crafted inside of his thoughts, in which he and Blaine would have gotten together and kissed under the light of a streetlamp at half past ten, when the rain was hammering against their shared umbrella and the wind threatened to turn it inside out and throw it from their hands. They should be falling in love right now, slowly and painfully, and they should be the two up on the stage singing to each other- and this was all that Kurt could think about as he dragged his heavy limbs up the stairs and out of the front door.

He drove home in silence, knowing that by some sick twist of fate all he would hear were songs that made him think of Blaine, and by all good in the world he knew he was overreacting but that didn’t mean he could stop himself from feeling like he had been thrown into a bath of vinegar and lemon juice with thousands of paper cuts all over his body. Because he was stinging, his entire body felt like an open wound and the sob that tore from his chest and forced his mouth open left him feeling so empty and so hurt that he was almost sure that he would never be happy again.

It was a dumb idea to drive home when the world was distorted by the sheer amount of pathetic tears he had running down his face, but what else was he even meant to do? If he stopped driving he knew for a fact he was going to just sit there for the rest of his miserable life, no motivation to keep trying when his first real crush was sucking the face off of one of his best friends.

He was being ridiculous, obviously, but it’s not his fault. Love is stupid and pointless and yet so easy to fall into, and it either made the world seem so far away or brought you crashing down like some old, beaten up house. It wasn’t beneficial to anyone to let yourself get so worked up but wasn’t he allowed to just feel right now?

And as he pulled into his driveway and put his car into park, he barely had enough time to take out the keys before he found himself curling up under the weight of everything he had running through his mind. He just sat in the darkness of his car and sobbed as loudly as he needed, confident that no one in the world would ever hear him because it was almost 10pm and, with or without him, the world was still spinning. People were going about their own lives without any idea of how broken up he was about this whole stupid evening.

But then the front door opened and his dad, dressed in a pair of old jeans and one of his dumb beer-company-branded t-shirts, walked out onto the porch. He was squinting at the driver’s side window and scratching the top of his head like he was trying to solve the many mysteries contained within the darkness and tears that were filling the interior of his car.

“Kurt? You in there?” Burt walked himself towards the car with the same sort of caution he approached a badger in the back garden, but as soon as he got there and saw the state his son was in, holding himself together and covered in his own tears, snot, and self-pity, he opened the door and reached across to undo his seatbelt and then pulled him into the kind of hug that they hadn’t shared since they walked out of the church grounds after burying his mother.

“Okay, okay kid, come on. We need to go inside, yeah? Come talk to me, or Carole, or both of us.” He spoke softly, dropping his voice into a tone that made Kurt feel so safe and so warm all at once, and Kurt let his dad coax him out of the car and into the house, where he was settled down onto the couch between his dad and Carole and allowed to feel.

“What happened, sweetheart?” Carole was running a hand through his hair, in that way that only a mother can, and frowning softly, and on the other side his dad was rubbing a thumb over his arm. Kurt himself was at that point in a breakdown where you’re still crying even though all the emotion that dragged you to tears had all but leaked out of your eyes with them, but your chest was heaving with each quick inhale and your shoulders would jump with each sob and you wouldn’t know how to make it stop anymore.

How was he even meant to tell his parents that a boy- who he wasn’t even dating -had broken his heart by kissing someone at a party he wasn’t meant to be at?

“Was it a boy?” _was it a boy_. Was it? He wanted to answer his dad so badly, tell him yes, _yes it was a boy!_ , but the words got lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth and all that came out was a strangled sound that was almost a sob but not quite. He felt his dad lean over and press a soft kiss to his head, the very amount of silent love he conveyed through that causing Kurt’s entire skeleton to shake within his skin.

You would think that would have stopped him from crying but instead it just seemed to wind him up more, and Burt could only pull his son into his chest and hold him there as he started to cry harder, sob louder, and tell him very quietly that it was going to be okay, that he was going to make it _better_.

His dad took hold of one of his hands and squeezed it gently and all Kurt could think about were all the times Blaine had done the same- first when taking him to the Warbler’s meeting room for the first time and last when they were walking to Rachel’s party. Not that it had meant anything to Blaine. Then Carole put a hand onto his back and Kurt swore that for a moment he heard Blaine talking to him about the newest song he was into, or asking him for his opinion on a solo idea. He cried out against his dad’s chest and gasped and struggled against his grip as the air in his lungs turned sour and everything in his stomach got caught on the next sob, his tired body not sure how to handle everything going on inside anymore.

Coughing and heaving and fighting to get away from his dad, Kurt felt the first of his stomach contents surging up his throat, burning his tongue, and Carole and his dad seemed to finally get the message. Burt stood with him and bundled him towards the kitchen, holding him by the upper arms and telling Carole to stay in the living room. And he ran his hands up and down as Kurt took hold of the counter and choked up the soda he had drank in Rachel’s creepy basement-turned-showroom. Then it was the food he had eaten that day, a light salad with boiled chicken and home-made coleslaw he had made in the morning and packed into his bag for lunch, grapes he had eaten for a snack, and then the corn flakes and milk he had had for breakfast.

It had all muddled together, along with his sadness and regret and anger, and had become this horrid thing that was now collecting in the sink and leaving him breathless in all the wrong ways. Spit and bile and strings of puke clung to his lips and chin and his dad snagged the cloth from behind the tap and used it to wipe Kurt’s face. He was so patient, so gentle, despite how much of a mess Kurt had made, and that only made him want to break down all over again.

But right now he was stuck in that sort of in-between, halfway from okay and falling apart, where he was just sort of sniffling and wiping away tears that he didn’t feel fall.

“Why don’t we go and sit back down and you tell us what happened, yeah?” Burt spoke up after a short period of silence and Kurt nodded without a second’s pause, watching his dad turn on the tap and the garbage disposal and wash his shame away. He let himself be led back into the lounge, sat back down in between his parents, and took a deep breath. He let himself have a moment to work with his thoughts and decide where he would start, where in this whole mess of a few months he was going to begin to explain how he had made a complete fool out of himself.

Before he had met Blaine he had been okay, things had been a little hard, but Blaine had helped him to realise how not okay he was, really. And that had left him vulnerable to all these feelings, all these thoughts and hopes and dreams that had led him to being sat on a couch, covered in your own snot and tears and likely vomit. Now he just had to talk about it, after all they said that helped, right?

_Right?_


End file.
